


It's all fun and games...

by Nova_Bomb



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, But I will update the tags accordingly, Ender Eye Au, Eye Trauma, Minecraft, Not super graphic but just in case, not sure where this is going
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 22:22:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10371018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nova_Bomb/pseuds/Nova_Bomb
Summary: I'm weighing in on this Ender Eye AU.All aboard the angst train.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I did not think this is what would break me out of my writer’s block, but here you have it. 
> 
> I don't typically get into real people fiction, so I blame Sami since this is inspired by her AMAZING [art](http://samijen.tumblr.com/post/158026647081/the-beginning-1-2-3-confused-read-about) for this Ender Eye AU.
> 
> If you catch any typos or weirdness absolutely feel free to let me know so I can fix it! Enjoy!

Ryan’s never had any illusions that his chosen profession _isn’t_ life threateningly dangerous.

The sturdy kingdom walls and blazing watchfires keep all within the city safe, but that life wasn’t enough for the kind of morons who would rather venture into the unknown seeking fortune and glory. Those kind of morons that happen to be Ryan and his friends. Because for all its dangers, there are riches beyond the kingdom. Treasures and secrets worth their weight in gold that will earn far more wealth than a modest living in the kingdom ever could.

They make a rather unlikely party. None of them are particularly well-equipped to brave the untamed wilds on their own, but together they make almost a fully functional adventurer. It helps that they all have their own skillsets that are surprisingly complementary, even if the same can’t always be said of their personalities.

Ryan is an academic, tireless in his pursuit of knowledge and understanding. There is no denying that between the monsters that shamble in the night and the doorways that lead to other realms, there is magic in the world. It isn’t well understood, but Ryan means to change that. He’s an alchemist and an enchanter, and his primary goal in this whole endeavor is to unravel the mystical forces that be. Also to occasionally set things on fire with his enchanted sword, but you gotta mix things up every now and then.

Michael is the warrior. He is fearless; a skilled swordsman that doesn’t back down from any foe. Though none of their group is helpless with a blade, they pale in comparison next to him. Jeremy insists that he is the mighty Mogar of legend reborn, but Michael largely dismisses that as utter bullshit. He can be short tempered, but between slaying monsters and swinging a pickaxe, there are sufficient outlets for him to vent his anger.

Jack is their builder. His hands have the tremendous power to create and he’s the primary reason they haven’t all died of exposure or a mine collapse thus far. As if that wasn’t enough, he’s also taken on the role of healer, since they couldn’t find one stupid or crazy enough to join their ranks. Jack has the steadiest hands and can stitch up the holes in their socks, ergo he’s the medic. He may not have a medical license but he’s saved most of their sorry asses enough times that it’s gotta count for something.

Jeremy is something of an enigma. It doesn’t seem physically possible for someone to have the kind of luck he has, leading Ryan to believe it has nothing to do with luck at all. Jeremy is good at finding things. _Really_ good. He knows where to look to uncover gold and diamonds and emeralds. When they stumble upon ancient temples, Jeremy can pick out the the trip wires and pressure plates that would otherwise turn you into a pincushion. The bastard just has a nose for these things. No one journeys into the caves or out on a foraging trip without him, because he always finds what they need.

If only Gavin could be so useful.

That’s mostly a joke.

For all his chaotic presence, Gavin _is_ a deadeye with a bow. It’s staggering how quickly he can cycle between blundering idiocy and remarkable intelligence. If nothing else he (mostly) does as he’s told and is surprisingly tolerant despite being the butt of many jokes. Despite his penchant for mischief, Gavin is good for morale.

Then there’s Geoff, who truthfully isn’t much better than Gavin, but somehow _he_ is their leader. What started as his drunken ramblings has become their entire operation, and though he’s not their best and brightest, Geoff is without doubt the glue that binds them all together. He’s a leader, but not in the way of a king or a sergeant; it’s not a iron rule or an air of superiority. It’s just the way he can take a group of arguing jackasses and bring them all together as a cohesive team to reach their goal. It’s really far less inspiring than it sounds. Geoff  has to yell himself hoarse most of time and they’re all still a bunch of assholes.

And yet, somehow it works.

But as aforementioned, there _are_ risks.

 

* * *

 

It’s Ryan’s own fault, really. A stupid miscalculation.

They’re out far later than they should be, gathering fucking mushrooms of all things.

Jack wants them for cooking and Ryan needs to restock his potion supplies.

They find a generous supply of them growing in the marsh just West of the forest near the village. Being the single minded morons that they are, they’re too busy filling their bags to notice the sun slipping closer and closer to the horizon.

That is until Ryan hears the slogging of clumsy feet dragging across the soft earth.

“Zombie,” he cautions, dropping his bag and freeing his sword from its sheath.

Like flint on steel, the metal sparks and ignites, the fire enchantment glowing bright against the dusk.

The fire is enough to give the creature pause, and Ryan seizes the opportunity, slashing a long cut across the zombie’s chest. Flames take to the creature’s tattered clothes and engulf it before it can reach out and grab him. The zombie gurgles wetly, taking a few more steps forward before collapsing to the ground.

When Ryan turns, Jack is right behind him, with his own sword in hand, holding Ryan’s bag out to him. “C’mon. We better get back.”

Ryan nods and slings the bag over his shoulder as they make their way out of the swamp and into the forest.

The enchanted sword, while great for fighting monsters in the dark caves below the surface, isn’t so advantageous above ground once the sun goes down. His blade is a beacon shining between trees, drawing the gaze of creatures lurking in the shadows. Jack says as much and Ryan agrees, sheathing his sword as they weave through the forest, quick and quiet. They haven’t yet encountered any monsters they can’t sneak around but Ryan should know better than to entertain optimism.

An arrow strikes the trunk of the tree to their right with a loud _thunk_ and Ryan whirls about, pulling his sword once more. The firelight dances across the trees and Ryan spots the skeleton as it nocks another arrow. He shoves Jack behind a wide oak and follows seconds after the arrow is loosed.

“Stay here,” Ryan says before darting back out and charging the skeleton.

The monster struggles to nock another arrow with its clumsy digits, but it’s not fast enough. The bones are dry and his sword shatters and ignites them with barely a touch. In a matter of seconds, the forest is lit up with the burning torch of a skeleton and Ryan can see red eyes glowing in the darkness.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Ryan, creeper!”

He sees it the same time Jack does, striding silently towards him, beady eyes fixed on Ryan. With no splash potions or ranged weapons in his arsenal, Ryan elects to live to fight another day and runs.

Giving Jack an encouraging shove they sprint through the brush, branches whipping at their faces and brambles tugging at their legs. The sound of pursuit follows close behind them but they don’t dare look back. The glint of the village watchfires are visible through the trees now, and they’re almost home free.

There’s that goddamn optimism again.

Jack’s foot catches on a root and he goes down hard. His palms hit the dirt and the mushrooms in his bag scatter across the ground. “Fuck!”

Ryan whips about, eyes tracking the creatures slowly pursuing. Another skeleton, two zombies and though they lost the creeper, the spider is still in pursuit. He adjusts his grip on the sword and looks to offer his hand to Jack, balking at what he sees.

“What the fuck are you doing, Jack?!”

He fumbles to scoop up the mushrooms, shovelling them back into his bag. “Okay, okay, I’m going!”

Jack accepts his hand and he pulls him to his feet. Ryan takes one last glance at the approaching monsters and glimpses an arrow in flight.

It’s the last thing his right eye ever sees.

In all honesty, he’s lucky.

The arrow enters at the lacrimal caruncle of his right eye and stops when it hits the zygomatic bone of his skull. He’s lucky because if the arrow had been going any faster, it would have punched straight through, sinking deep into his right temporal lobe.

Ryan doesn’t feel lucky.

A scream rips itself from his throat and he drops his sword as pain explodes in his right eye, the world gone dark. His hands fly towards his face, but it’s a mistake. The arrow is nudged roughly and Ryan howls in pain. He clenches his fists uselessly, nails leaving deep crescent moons in his palms but he can barely feel it. There’s tears and blood pouring down his face and he thinks Jack might be yelling his name but he can’t hear over the sound of his staccato heartbeat pounding in his ears like a wardrum.

Ryan opens his eyes and can only see out of one.

The hysteric fear only intensifies as his left eye focuses on the arrow shaft protruding from his face. It’s almost enough to make him vomit, but he can’t because the panic ties a noose around his throat and each sob that wracks through his chest only pulls it tighter.

He reaches a shaking hand towards his face, slowly this time, but doesn’t make contact. A hand grabs his wrist and Jack kneels in front of him, Ryan only now realizing that he’s collapsed.

The fear wrought into those dark hazel eyes is sobering, a sharp punch to the gut, as they dart from Ryan to somewhere behind him. “Ryan, if you want to keep your eye, for fucks sake, don’t touch it!! You’ve got to get up _now!!_ ”

Another arrow whistles past them for emphasis and it sends a fresh spike of adrenaline racing through his limbs.

Jack hauls him to his feet, even as his legs feel like rubber beneath him. With an arm pulled over Jack’s shoulder, he tows Ryan forward. It takes everything Ryan has not to trip over his own feet as they make a break for the edge of the forest. The pain in his eye has not dulled and he still can’t see from it. He can taste blood and salt on his lips, his throat raw as he chokes on each breath he takes. There’s blood spilled down the front of his shirt, blood on his free hand and blood dripping down the arrow shaft, staining the fletching red.

“Just keep breathing, Ryan, hold on,” Jack mutters.

Michael and Gavin are there when they break from the treeline, armoured and armed to the teeth.

“We heard screaming, what the hell- OH WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“BLOODY HELL!!!”

Jack’s steps don’t falter and he doesn’t provide a response, he just continues up the hill with Ryan in tow.

“Michael did you see-?!”

“Gavin! Creeper!!”

“Shit, right! Got it!!”

They get up past the bonfires at the edge of the village and Geoff meets them there, his face contorting into a look of horror as he glances between them. “What happened?!”

Jack is breathing hard now and Jeremy dashes forward, taking Ryan from him and leading him towards their house.

“Skeleton,” Jack replies breathlessly. “Get my supplies. Hurry!”

Ryan always knew that despite his size, Jeremy was strong. He never appreciated just _how_ strong until this moment. Little J moves him bodily through the house without dilemma, even when Ryan’s knees threaten to buckle beneath him. Jeremy settles him down onto his bed, and he counts himself lucky that his room is on the first floor. His hands, still shaking, twist themselves into the blankets as Ryan squints up at the ceiling, struggling to draw breath. The arrow is massive in his field of vision and he tries not to feel; tries not to imagine exactly how the arrowhead is lodged inside his eye socket and what it must look like.

 _Not great,_ if the wide fear on Jeremy’s face is any indication.

“Jeremy, move.” Jack enters the room with Geoff close behind him, carrying an array of medical supplies, potions, and poultices.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Jeremy is quick to vacate the spot but hovers closeby.

“Spin him around, so his head is here,” Jack orders, gesturing at the foot of the bed.

Geoff is already moving Ryan, prying his hands loose from the blankets while Jeremy watches in confusion, brows drawn.

“Why does it matter-”

“Because someone needs to hold his head still,” Jack answers curtly. He settles on the bed beside him and uncorks a potion – from the colour it must be regeneration, Ryan thinks dizzily. Before they lay him back down, Jack presses the bottle to his lips. “Come on, Ryan. I need you to drink this.”

Even through the pain and the blood, Ryan musters an angry glare. “If I do, will you just pull the damn thing out already?” he gasps through clenched teeth.

There’s grim determination in Jack’s eyes and he doesn’t reply but Ryan drinks the potion anyways, choking a little at the end. They slowly lay him back down and Ryan can feel his heart thrashing against his ribcage. Jack closes one hand around Ryan’s wrist as the other comes up to his face, not to the arrow, but to his forehead, brushing back his hair. Ryan’s hand twitches in Jack’s grip despite his best efforts.

Jack sends a quick glance at Jeremy and he’s there in an instant, kneeling at the end of the bed as he presses his hands to either side of Ryan’s head. Geoff stands just over Jack’s shoulder, his frown deep with concern.

 _This is it_ _,_  Ryan thinks to himself. The panic is pathological, spreading through every nerve in his body as adrenaline floods his veins. It’s a terrifying anticipation that rages out of control, the lizard part of his brain drowning out all higher function. Suddenly, Ryan’s not sure he wants the arrow out after all.

A commotion at the door hails the return of Gavin and Michael, both shouldering their way into the room, though Ryan cannot see them from his current vantage point.

“Jesus Christ,” Michael breathes.

“If you idiots aren’t here to help, then get the fuck out,” Geoff barks.

Michael slowly crosses into Ryan’s view but Gavin does not. Their fearless warrior is paler than Ryan’s ever seen him.

A firm hand on his jaw snaps his focus to Jack once more. He’s holding a small roll of leather in his free hand. “Bite down on this,” he instructs.

The regeneration potion has set a dull numbness writhing beneath his skin, but it’s not enough. Not by a long shot. Ryan releases the tension in his clenched jaw and opens his mouth, teeth sinking into the hard leather when he closes it again.

Jack locks eyes with Jeremy somewhere above Ryan’s head. “Keep him still.”

When Jack’s hand starts towards his face again, Ryan screws his eye shut and braces for the worst.

He doesn’t feel Jack wrap a hand around the arrow shaft, but he does feel the first tug.

Agony, like he’s never known, sets fire to Ryan’s nervous system and he screams around the leather between his teeth. He tries to jerk his head but Jeremy holds firm so he reaches his arms up instead, because there’s a burning chunk of coal where his eye should be and he _needs it out._

Gavin retches and Jack shouts, and suddenly Ryan can’t move his arms; pinned down by Geoff and Michael, some distant part of his mind recognizes, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that Jack has his hand around the arrow again and Ryan bites harder into the leather as he cries out.

“Hold still, Ryan!”

Every twist and pull rakes hot irons through his skull and Ryan can feel the fresh blood as is spills hot down his cheek. He thrashes beneath the hands that pin him, tries desperately to pull his head away, but there’s no escape. Much later, Jack will tell him he’s lucky to be alive, but in this moment Ryan wishes he wasn’t. His sobs are muffled behind the leather in his mouth, but Ryan begs for an end.

When the arrow finally pulls free, Ryan opens his eye and the last thing he sees is the anguish etched into Jack’s face. The pain drags him under and Ryan lets the current sweep him into blessed unconsciousness.

 

* * *

 

Ryan wakes much the same way he passed out in the first place. Pain is the first thing Ryan perceives as his awareness slowly resurfaces. The right side of his face thrums with a persistent ache. It doesn’t help that his jaw is also sore from clenching his teeth too hard. The discomfort pushes him further towards consciousness and the bright light of day begins to seep through his closed eyes.

 _Eye,_  he corrects himself.

In addition to the pain, Ryan can also feel the layers of linen wrapped around his head, covering his damaged eye.

Familiar sounds reach him, muted footsteps behind a closed door, the sound of a hammer striking an anvil outside, but the most prominent is the gentle snoring to his left. Cracking open his eye, Ryan squints against the daylight but he can see Jack dozing in a wooden chair at his bedside. Arms crossed and head bowed, he doesn’t look all that comfortable.

Ryan inspects his own predicament; he’s propped up in bed on several, lumpy pillows and his bloodied clothes have been stripped, leaving him with a clean white shirt.  Tentatively, he reaches a hand up to his face and carefully follows the bandage with his fingertips. He knows it’s a mistake, but he presses lightly on the patch covering his right eye and is granted a sharp blossom of pain. Wincing quietly, Ryan pulls his hand away.

When he looks up, his eye catches the sun’s reflection on the polished obsidian mirror hanging on the wall above the washbasin.

Ryan chances a glance at Jack who has not stirred. His breaths remain deep and rhythmic, still fast asleep. Slowly, Ryan pushes back the covers on the bed and rises to his feet. A wave of dizziness rushes over him and he stumbles forward, reaching out to balance himself with a hand on the wall. Luckily it passes as quickly as it arose and Jack doesn’t seem to notice. Ryan releases a small breath and steps up to the mirror.

There’s less blood than he would have imagined.

Someone was kind enough to clean up his face at least. Even the bandage is surprising pristine, only a faint red blotch that managed to bleed through. Obviously his dressings have been changed at least once. Ryan traces the edges of the bandage, probing for weakness and is pleasantly surprised to discover that most of the tenderness is located closer to the bridge of his nose than his actual eye. Maybe he hasn’t lost his vision after all. Staring intently at his reflection, Ryan hazards another look at Jack over his shoulder.

Licking his lips, Ryan calls out in a whisper, “Jack?”

A light snore is his only reply, so Ryan turns back to the mirror.

He has to know for sure.

Ryan carefully unwinds the linen bandage from around his head, the open air welcoming to the sweat beneath that has plastered his hair to his forehead. Just a thick gauze pad is all that obscures his eye and Ryan takes a deep breath, steeling himself as he peels away the patch.

It’s not pretty.

Ryan grimaces at his reflection, leaning closer for a better look. It’s not all that shocking that he can’t see a damn thing out of his right eye at the moment. His eyelid is angry and red, swollen shut. Examining the bandage, the inside is spotted with blood but there’s no sign of pus or vitreous fluid that would indicate infection or a ruptured eyeball.

His gaze lifts to the mirror once more. Ryan tries to open his right eye, but all he’s rewarded with is a slight fluttering of his eyelid and a jab of pain. A quiet hiss escapes his lips and Ryan knows his next idea won’t feel much better, but he _needs_ to know. Reaching up with both hands, he positions them above and below his eye. Taking several deep breaths, Ryan grits his teeth and pulls his eyelids open.

There’s nothing.

The pain is sharp and Ryan is unable to stifle a soft whine before he snatches his hands away. His chest feels like it’s collapsing inward and surely there’s just too much swelling for him to see it. It _can’t_ be gone. Ryan’s left eye is already watering from the strain but he brings his hands up to part his eyelids again, wider this time.

Jack’s voice calls out, groggy for only a split second. “Ryan…? Ryan!! What are you doing?!”

_Empty._

Blood begins welling from the irritated wound and a quiet whimper escapes his lips but Ryan holds firm. He stares at the raw flesh of his empty eye socket and the revelation caves his chest with an iron fist. It cracks his ribs and hollows his chest and an absurd sound bubbles from his throat - something caught between a giggle and a sob. Likely both.

Ryan drops his hands, smeared with blood that’s slowly weeping from his right eye, and turns to face Jack.

He’s stood now, his chair toppled backwards, and his face twisted mess of anger and grief as his eyes search Ryan’s face.

Though his eye hurts more than ever, Ryan’s voice does not waver as he speaks. “Where’s my eye, Jack?”

_You made me believe I could keep it! This is your fault!_

The words are on the tip of his tongue, thrashing against the bars that hold them behind closed lips. He wants to let them out so badly, to hurl them at Jack like a speeding cannonball that will break apart his chest, just as Ryan’s is shattered.

Jack’s lips form the beginning of his name but pause as he sucks in a wincing breath. “I’m so sorry Ryan.”

The words are on the tip of his tongue. But Ryan doesn’t say them.

Because even with a single eye, he can see that Jack is already crushed. He can see it in the deep lines of his face and the dark circles under his eyes. There’s nothing Ryan can say that Jack hasn’t already told himself.

What’s done is done.

Neither of them speak for a long time. Ryan settles back onto the bed and Jack dabs away the fresh blood from his cheek. He presses another healing potion into Ryan’s hands before applying a new bandage over his eye, working in silence. For the most part Ryan just stares at the opposite wall, thoughts churning through his head like muddy water. The implications of his monocular vision, half formed, vanish in the murk as he tries to shove all thought from his mind. Tries not to think about it.

Instead he focuses on Jack’s hands, calloused but gentle as they smooth the new bandage over his eye. He’s about to pull his hands away, but Ryan catches his wrist, turning to look at Jack.

There’s a touch of fear in those soft eyes, but Ryan squeezes his wrist and almost manages a smile. “Thanks, Jack.”

_Thanks for trying._

Ryan can see the relief wash over him and when he releases Jack’s hand, it falls heavy onto his shoulder. Jack gives him a small pat in reply before turning to clean up his supplies. The diminished tension in the room makes it just a little easier to breathe. Not that the peace lasts all that long. It never does around here.

The sound of the door cracking open draws Ryan’s gaze to where Michael pokes his head into the room. His eyes swing about before landing on Ryan.

“He’s up.”

Gavin’s face appears above Michael’s, rather comically. “He’s awake?!”

Michael’s eyes turn wide and he tips forward as the door swings open. “GAVIN!” The pair tumble to the floor, Michael crushed beneath Gavin, though it doesn’t take them long to recover.

Gavin rushes over to Ryan, though stops himself just short of tackling him. “Ryan! You’re alive! Are you going to pull a Phineas Gage and be a mingy prick now?”

Jack nearly drops the empty bottle he’s holding but a surprised chuckle escapes Ryan.

When Michael picks himself up, he slams a fist into Gavin’s gut before turning a confused look on Ryan. “What the fuck is a finny-S-gauge?”

Somewhere between Gavin’s suffering, Jack’s horror and Michael’s confusion, Ryan manages a genuine burst of laughter. “No, Gavin, I don’t believe I was lobotomized, was I Jack?”

Frowning deeply, Jack does not seem to share his humor in all this. “ _No,_ you were not. Gavin I _told_ you he was _fine-_ ” his eyes dart to Ryan and he’s quick to correct himself. “-that his _brain_ was fine.”

Ryan lets that one go and turns to Michael who’s still waiting on a reply. “Phineas Gage is a famous psychology case study. He’s a guy that got an iron bar speared through his brain and survived.”

“He was just a right prick afterwards,” Gavin adds, a little wheezy as he recovers from Michael’s blow.

It’s not surprising when Geoff and Jeremy are drawn to the sounds of commotion.

A wide smile lights up Jeremy’s face. “Hey, Ryan! How ya doing, pal?”

A gleeful smirk begins to stretch across Ryan’s face. “I’ve _seen_ better days.”

Gavin squawks, Michael laughs evilly and Geoff just shakes his head. “ _Really,_ Ryan?” he balks. “You’re going to start making those jokes _already??_ ”

“What?” he reasons, “If anyone’s allowed to, it’s me.”

Michael speaks between giggles. “Dude. It’s kind of soon.”

Ryan scoffs but doesn’t reply.

Gavin and Michael have crammed themselves on either side of him at the head of the bed and Jack takes a seat near the foot, concern still written in his furrowed brows as he scrutinizes Ryan’s face. “We should really get you some ice for the swelling,” he frets.

Ryan resists the impulse to roll his eyes.

 _Eye,_ he corrects for the second time today.

Damn, that’s going to take some getting used to.

“It’s _fine,_ Jack,” he insists. “You can stop ‘mother hen-ing now.”

There’s an indignant look in his eye but Jack keeps any rebuttal to himself.

“Seriously, though,” Geoff speaks up, “It doesn’t hurt?”

“Well of course it hurts!” he retorts. “I lost a goddamn eye!”

Geoff opens his mouth to argue but Jeremy is quick to pipe up. “I mean, _technically_ you didn’t lose it.”

Everyone turns to look at Jeremy and Ryan narrows his eye, rather disliking the impish grin on his face.

“What are you on about, Little J?” Gavin demands.

His smile only grows wider and more wicked as he shrugs in feigned innocence. “I mean, I’m just saying. It’s not really lost if you know exactly where it is.”

Before anyone can try and hazard a guess at where the fuck he’s going with all this, Jeremy pulls a jar out of his pocket. It’s filled with amber liquid and suspended within is a familiar blue orb. “Ta-dah!”

The room erupts into commotion and everyone is speaking at once.

Geoff grimaces. “Oh, what the fuck! That’s gross!!”

Gavin dives off the side of the bed, gagging violently.

“Dude, c’mon. That’s fucked.” Michael’s smile doesn’t quite fade but his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.

Jack is by far the most irate. “What the fuck, Jeremy!? I told you to get rid of it!!”

“Well what was I supposed to do, Jack?” he snaps. “Dig it a grave and bury it behind the house? It’s _Ryan’s_ eye. Shouldn’t _he_ decide what to do with it?”

It’s only now that everyone seems to realize that Ryan hasn’t reacted at all. He’s mostly just shocked, gaze transfixed on the eyeball floating in the jar.

Jeremy’s mirth has died down and he looks a little more rueful now as he waits for a reaction.

Ryan says nothing, instead he looks at Jeremy and holds out his empty palm.

The room has gone silent, with the exception of Gavin struggling not to dry heave on the floor.

Little J is quick to place the jar in his hand, settling on the end of the bed, still looking nervous.

Ryan’s attention is focused solely on the jar in his hand. The the preserving fluid tinges the colour a bit but there’s no mistaking that it’s _his_ eyeball swimming in there. While the iris is mostly intact, the eye is in rough shape. It’s a small wonder the eye is holding together at all. From what he can tell, it looks like the arrow cut in all the way to the vitreous chamber, completely annihilated the back of the retina and left the optic nerve dangling by a thread. It’s no small wonder Jack couldn’t save his vision.

Maybe the sight of his disembodied eyeball should disgust and disturb him more than it does but all Ryan can manage is a fleeting, apathetic curiosity. “Huh,” he declares eloquently. A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth as Ryan turns to look at Gavin who is only now recovering. “Hey, Gavin,” he says, turning the severed eye to stare at him, “I’ve got my eye on you.”

Geoff loses his shit immediately, breaking out into a howling laughter as Gavin begins retching once more. Jeremy’s face lights up in a grin and Jack puts his face in his hand, shaking his head as he curses quietly to himself.

Michael cackles at Gavin’s misfortune before snatching the jar from Ryan’s hand, holding it close to his face for inspection. “Dude, that’s so fucking gross.”

Rolling on the floor, Gavin voices his agreement with a tortured groan. “Ryan, why would you keep it??”

Glancing over at the jar in Michael’s hand, he ponders the thought. “I don’t know,” Ryan admits. “I think Jeremy’s right though. I can’t just throw a part of me away.”

Michael looks up with a cheeky grin. “So what? You would keep your arm if it got cut off?”

“I don’t know.” Ryan shrugs, grinning. “I might use it to hit Gavin.”

“Nah, I think you’re right, Ryan,” Jeremy defends. “The eye is different. It’s just cool to keep it in a jar.”

“If by _cool_ you mean _creepy as fuck,_ then sure,” Geoff grumbles.

Jack still holds his opposition, muttering quietly. “I should’ve given it to Michael. He would’ve thrown it into lava or something.”

“That would be awesome!” Michael blurts. “Do you think it would sizzle? Can I throw it in??”

“No!” Ryan snatches back the jar, holding it in his lap protectively. “No cooking my eyeball.”

Jack releases an exasperated sigh. “What are you going to do with it?”

Casting his gaze around the room, a small smirk twists across his lips. “Oh I don’t know. That table over there looks sort of empty.” He holds out the jar so it sits atop the table in his sight. “I could keep an eye on it.”

The entire room groans.

**Author's Note:**

> I was planning to add more to this but it's kind of fallen off my radar. May add to it later but marking it as complete for now.


End file.
